


Except After Purples

by roundandtalented



Series: Looking For Group [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Humanstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:38:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2046408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roundandtalented/pseuds/roundandtalented
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon first meeting Karkat Vantas, you immediately knew that boy was precious and should be protected at all costs.</p><p>Should be read after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1880106">Need Before Greed</a>, but takes place before that fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Except After Purples

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ainoimsed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainoimsed/gifts).



> So [daniDynamic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/daniDynamic/works)'s second prompt for [Drone Season](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/droneseason2014) was " _Eridan/Karkat: nice guys finish last_ " and I wanted to do that one too =u=  
> 

Upon first meeting Karkat Vantas, you immediately knew that boy was precious and should be protected at all costs.

Protected from rude strangers on public transit, from his professors when they didn’t find his rants endearing, from his coffee being much too hot to drink yet, from the goddamn rain…  


You think about him, drenched and droopy, angry and scorned on that first day of your Gothic Literature class and can’t help but smile about it. It’d been one of your first year elective classes, one of his final ones, and he’d come in half an hour late to lecture. The professor made him explain why he was late, then sat the very humiliated little ball of soggy hatred next to you in the front row.  
His shitty flip phone, and who even has those anymore, had a peeling Horde sticker on it. You hadn’t played in at least a year, but, it was something.

You’re. Well.  
You’re bad at making friends. 

You’re pretty offensive, kind of a shit talker, and basically the problem is you have a hard time finding someone who’s conversation doesn’t bore you. But short, pudgy, dark skinned and adorable Karkat ‘ _what are you looking at, assmunch_ ’ Vantas needed to know one person in the world did not have it out for him on that day.  


You gave him your BattleID the moment the professor announced a break, and he immediately started talking. And then he didn’t stop. That’s normally your thing, but hey. He actually knew what he was talking about too. You found out he had two years on you, was currently moving into his new apartment, and had been having the worst week imaginable.

You, uh. You maybe crushed on him within the first month of that class. Which, isn’t a surprise. You, Eridan Ampora, are a hopeless romantic and also maybe a bit lonely. Maybe.  
It’s a bad combo. You get smitten with people fairly easily, and it’s usually a problem. But Karkat was the sort of crush you could deal with- a backburner type of thing. You were friends first, and you had a long history of fucking up friendships by bringing romance to the table anyway, so you sort of just went about your life not focusing on anything other than late night instances with him. And sharing notes in class. 

Heck, you even dated some girl for two months while trying to ignore the fact that the guy who fit the role of best friend was what you were really looking for.  
Karkat talked you through your date with that girl, then through how to break up with her because ‘ _I don’t care how hot she is, you idiot. Don’t stick your dick in crazy_ ’.  
You always text him when you woke up, you sat next to him every class you had together, you played Wow with him until you were too tired to keep going, and then he always told you to have sweet dreams as you crawled off to bed.

He was. Sort of your everything, by the end of first year. You were sure he was by the end of the second while he worked some shit job in town. But, you had plans. Life plans. You were bound to go overseas for a year of school- like, bound to the point where your parents were insisting and threatening that if you didn’t take this ‘ _amazing learning opportunity_ ’, they’d stop paying for your schooling. And, while you’re pretty sure you could do the student loan thing, you also don’t want to have that shit to deal with. You’re not like Kar, you won’t qualify for scholarships or bursaries.

You’re from a well-off family, and even though you’re actually a really good student, you don’t get the best grades. Your essays come off as bitchy, your professors don’t usually like you, you’re awful at group-work…  
They’d laugh at you if you applied.

And the sad part is, in the beginning of the mess they call college, you’d been excited. You’d wanted to go overseas. You wanted to start fresh, make new friends, party maybe? And you could still skype with Karkat while you played World of Warcraft. That was a thing. But.  
About a month before, you’re totally distraught at the thought of leaving your shitty college town behind for potentially bigger and better things. Because would they really be bigger and better things if your best friend wasn’t there with you?

You spend every day with him and you know he notices. He knows about your school plan, after all. He knows everything.

Except the fact that you want him there with you. You want to hold him to you and kiss him and whisk him away on the plane with you and have him all to yourself.  
You think he might actually know that too because he leans against you while he cries during a movie, two weeks before you leave. He makes you dinner, a nice one, instead of ordering pizza. He constantly invites you over to his tiny apartment and smiles a little sadly when you pick up his laundry instead of his usual fussing. 

And at just one week before you leave, he breaks.  
He starts fucking bawling during a movie when it’s not even a sad part and you’ve never seen him this upset so it freaks you out a little.  
You offer him the usual hug, confused but willing to help, and he clings to you. Wraps his arms around your middle and squeezes you tight. 

“Kar, what’s wrong?” You rub his back as he presses his face to your chest, wetting your tshirt with his tears. “Kar, come on, talk to me.”  
“I’m going to miss you, you piece of shit.”  
You swallow, felling him stiffen his hold on you.

“M’gunna miss you too.” your voice wobbles, but you don’t cry. You can’t. You’ll cry on the plane, but not now.  
“We’ll skype every day.” you promise him, meaning the words with all of your being. “I’ll come home every holiday.”

He nods, shaky and still snuffling in a way that suggests he doesn’t want to look up because now he feels gross. You keep rubbing his back, letting him sniffle and mumble into you as he clings.  
He eventually sits up, after a lot of coaxing on your part. Karkat’s hair is always a disaster but now it’s kind of limp, lacking it’s usual flare. You idly wonder if it’s just because he looks so drained now, that it affects how his hair looks on him too.  
The two of you just sit there for a moment, staring at each other, legs up under yourselves on the couch.

“You’re my best friend.” he croaks, voice sounding sore. You feel tears prick at your eyes again but you push through.  
“You’re mine, Kar.”  
“I don’t want you to go.”  
“I know.” He meets your eyes and you feel like such a piece of shit for saying that, but what else can you really tell him? He knows you have to. He knows all about the plan and your parents and the plane ticket.  
“I wish I didn’t have to.” You offer him that at least, and without thinking much of it, you move your hands from his shoulders, up to his cheeks. He leans into that, eyes still glossy and cheeks still showing tear tracks. 

“I want you to stay with me.” His voice is quiet, like he doesn’t even know he’s saying the words, but it’s Karkat. He sounds like he doesn’t filter himself, but he does. He’s the sweetest, most honest person you know. He never holds his words back with you, and those ones hurt so much because he knows you fucking can’t.

So you do what your head tells you is the worst idea, but your heart says go for it anyway. You fucking kiss him. You kiss him like you don’t want to leave him, like you don’t want to be apart from him for more than a minute, and your heart nearly stops when he kisses you back in the very same way.

He’s, honestly more enthusiastic than you are. His hands are in your hair almost immediately, combing and carding as he attacks your lips with his own. Karkat kisses like he rants at first- fast and harsh and all over the place, almost like he has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s enthusiastic enough that it works.  
He nips at your lower lip, slides his tongue over it, and then goes right back to nearly crawling into your lap. He almost get there, and you can feel the exact moment when he changes his mind. You know him. He think’s he’s too heavy for you, too much weight to put just on your legs but he’s wrong.

You move your hands from his cheeks down to his belt loops, tucked away under his loose tshirt, and just, pull. 

Karkat breaks the kiss with a yelp as you try and tug him up onto your knees, squirming a bit and smacking at your hands. He makes the mistake of standing up off the couch, and then you’ve got him. One solid yank and he tips, ass landing on your lap and arms around you to ensure he stays upright.  
You’re maybe a bit smug, but he’s mostly shocked, sitting sideways over your thighs, arms looped over your shoulders. His cheeks are bright, warm, and you cover them with soft kisses to ease his panic.

“Dork.” you laugh, the word affectionate more than anything.  
He scrunches up his nose, like you’ve offended him, but his hands just end up back in your hair, and this time he attacks your neck with his mouth instead of your lips.  
He slowly sucks dark marks up you, tugs at your shirt so that he can get to your collarbone. He nips and sucks across it, and all you can do is bite your lip from outright moaning at all the attention. You push him back just so you can return the favour, but he’s not so quiet.  
Karkat is anything but quiet.

He pants and gasps and then he’s clawing at the bottom of your shirt in attempt to get it up, get it off. You let him have it, humming out a sigh as he spreads his warm hands over your chest.  
He’s seen you without a shirt on plenty of times- his air conditioning isn’t the best, and sometimes a fan just doesn’t cut it. But this time there’s just. More to it than having your shirt off casually.  
There’s purpose behind it. Behind his hands smoothing over your skin as he watches your face for reaction. Behind the way he curiously drags his thumb over your left nipple and grins when you stiffen.

“Really?” he asks you, part playful.  
You try to pout, but it’s not exactly successful.  
“I’m a sensitive guy, Kar.” 

He laughs, doing it again, and watching you bite your lip. That’s not fucking fair, but you don’t protest.  
“S’not the same for you, I take it?” Your voice is a little light, but he’s still just lazily moving both thumbs back and forth over your nipples like you’re some thing to be played with.  
You want him to play with you. You want him to keep touching you.  
“No.” Karkat snorts, rolling his eyes. “Just another bit of skin.”

You get your hands under his shirt and he stops. That just won’t do. He’s obviously thinking too much, worrying about having you touch his softness right back. So you don’t let him think.  
You kiss him again, all tongue and eagerness and that drags him right back to touching you. You make sure to moan into his mouth when he moves his thumbs again, arch into his touch as you work on easing his shirt up his chest. 

He lets you, after a bit of you touching all over him, slow and gentle. He just, needed a bit of encouragement, you suppose.  
When you tug his shirt completely off, he moves to straddle your lap, now completely aware that you’re not going to break under him. You’re not sure why he ever thought that- you’re pretty nicely put together, swimmer’s physique and all. You can handle Karkat’s chubby, five foot five frame. He’s not even a bit of a struggle for you.

What _is_ a struggle, is trying not to moan into his ear when he grinds his cargo shorts clad ass onto your already very interested, vaguely concealed dick.  
Your expensive boardshorts are fairly thin, and you’re hyper aware of how warm he is against you. Trying not to buck back up is a challenge, but you’re not so sure he’d appreciate you rubbing your clothed boner against him. Well.  
He meets your eyes and grins, and you reconsider.

“We were just kissing.” he teases, but he pushes himself against you anyway, rocking his ass in your lap.  
“You played with my nipples!” you protest, but Karkat just keeps grinning. “You’re the one grinding your ass against my dick!”  
“So I am.” He’s so smug and his grin is so damn charming. No wonder you’re smitten for this prick.

You don’t need more encouragement than that. He huffs out a laugh as you mimic a thrust upwards, hands on his hips to pull him down to you. It really doesn’t get either of you anywhere, and it’s more suggestion than actual motion, but you like it all the same. Karkat just rolls his eyes and moves his ass again.

“Is this you wantin’ somethin?” Your cheeks are bright as you ask, trying to sound bold but coming out terribly cautious instead.  
“Maybe.” He’s not real smug anymore either, so you feel like less of an idiot. “If you want.”  
You want. You’ve wanted him for over a year.  
“Anythin’, Kar.” 

He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and gentle as he rolls his hips. You can feel him now too, through his jeans. You’re pretty sure anyway, seeing as he’s bumped your stomach with his crotch more than a few times by this point.

“How far,” he asks you between kisses, hands cupping your face still.  
You can’t help just smiling, amazed and blissful that he’s still doing this, that it’s actually happening.  
“Anythin’ you want.” 

You know you sound stupid, all breathy and lovedrunk with Karkat in your lap. But he won’t stop touching you, letting you touch him. You’re stupidly smitten with him and pushing back reality just to keep kissing your best friend.  
He gives you a moment- or maybe he needs one. Either way, when he answers, he sounds out of breath and totally turned on, just from kissing and moving around in your lap. Though, you’re really no better than him. Like, at all.

“Bedroom.”

You smile, dopey and open mouthed, thumbs slowly flicking back and forth across the weight on his hips. You just nod, because you’re not sure you can come up with the right words.  
Karkat climbs off you, but takes your hands with him. He tugs you, to him, and you have to bend down to give him another kiss, this one a little eager and rushed again. You have no control of pace here and neither does he. Not while the two of you stumble around his living room, trying to get each other out of your shorts before you get to his bed.

Yours go first, easy because of the draw string on the front. His take a bit of work, but you get them off him right in his doorway. Belts are hard, buttons are harder.  
Karkat is doing his best to kiss you, even as you back him up against the side of his unmade bed. Open mouthed, messy kisses that are horribly distracting and so very hot.  
He does tip over, though. And he tugs you down with him a moment later, laughing with you when you go facefirst into a pillow next to him.  
The only thoughts in your head are Karkat. Karkat smiling, dark cheeks warm and hand on your face again. There’s no though of planes or school or parents- only Karkat, in his boxers beneath you on his bed.

You can’t believe this is happening.

He drags you in for a kiss about the same time his hand finds your dick. He palms you through you briefs, slow and lazy like his kisses, like there’s no rush and you suppose there kind of isn’t. Not tonight anyway.

You try and return the favour, but boxers are so much easier to just slip inside. So you do. His back bends and he moans into your mouth as you take him in your hand, his boxers just pushed down enough to get hold of him. You try and jerk him off similar to how you would yourself- you’ve done this before, you know you have, but it still feels new every time you do it for someone else. 

“Holy shit,” he gasps as you swipe your thumb over the head of his dick, hips twitching towards you.  
“Yeah,” you nod, huffing a laugh before you move to suck on his neck. He squeezes and strokes with one hand, and clutches at your shoulders with his other, moving his hips to your touch. Karkat doesn’t start terribly loud, but he gets there the more effort you put into making him react. 

He actually has to stop you, pleading that if you keep that up, he’ll finish before you get anywhere, and he wants more than that.  
You swallow, but nod, and let him drag you in for a long, deep kiss. When he allows you to pull back, eyes half lidded and so fucking turned on, he chews his lip like he’s got something else to say.  
You nudge him along, boop his nose with your own, and he puffs out air at your face.

“Whaaaat,” you coo at him, smiling and nearly laying on top of him, rocking your hips together even though his hand is loosely trapped in between.  
He scrunches up his nose, but eventually speaks.

“I’m good to. You know.” He makes this gesture and you’re not even sure what that was supposed to mean, but, context is everything. “I cleaned.”

You sort of sit back on his legs, eyes wide and probably gaping like an idiot. He’d planned this? How the fuck had he planned this. _You_ kissed _him_ first.  
Which leads you to wonder if, maybe he’d been hopeful. He’d, been waiting for you to make a move. For fuck knows how long. You’ve been over every day this week. Did that mean he’d been hoping you two would fuck for more than just a couple days???

He grabs your cheeks and brings you back down for a kiss. That’s, all you need to pass those thoughts and just moan into his mouth because _fuck_ , he’s wanted you more than just this dumb, spontaneous, sad romp. 

Both of your undies end up on the floor, and you have to go fish you wallet out of your pants. Because you’ve got a condom in there and _apparently_ he doesn’t have any.

He does have lube, though.

You doubt he’s all that experienced with having anyone’s fingers but his own in his ass, because he gasps and moans like it’s completely new to him, but presses back onto your single finger like he knows it gets even better if you get to adding more. 

You try not to think about Karkat fingering himself, alone in his room. No need to go off before you even get your dick in, that’s just not fair to anyone.

By the time you’re three, slick fingers into him, he’s clutching sheets and making soft, quiet noises that are somewhere between moans and whimpers.

“Come on, asshole.” He tries to snip at you, but it just comes out pleading.  
You tease him, because you’re a shit like that, and just move your fingers slower, dragging them in and out of his ass even as he’s trying to push them deeper by moving his hips. 

“Eridan, fucking please,” He reaches down to try and grab your hand, stop you himself. “I fucking want you, just go for it.”

You do as your told, pulling your fingers out of him but then not really sure what to do with them after that. A kiss to his forehead is enough of a distraction for you to wipe them on his sheets and not have him catch you.

You peel the foil on the condom, roll it on, and try not to freak the fuck out that you’re about to put your dick in your best friend. The way he watches you, eyes dark in the dim light of his bedside lamp, makes it way easier than expected.  
Karkat holds his legs for you, just so you have an easier time initially getting in, and you push forward. 

You’re not the least bit sorry for how much effort you put into fingerfucking him before, because it makes getting your dick in way less of a hassle.  
It leaves you nearly wrecked, but you still have to ease yourself in with short advances- he’s not done this before, you have to go slow, give him time for his body to get used to the stretch past the point of where your fingers could reach.  
He bites his lip, but the noises that he breathes out his nose are pleased ones. Timid, but pleased. You, on the other hand, are a loud utter mess.

“Kar,” You gasp his name, face tucked into his neck as you rock into him, slow and gentle. “Kar, you feel so good.”  
He moans, soft and a little strained as he clutches at your back. He let’s go of his legs once you’re all the way in, presses his thick thighs to your hips instead.  
“You’re so good Kar.”

He’s pretty tight around you, obviously not used to the feeling of having a whole dick inside him. You’re careful with him, smoothing your hands over his shoulders, his neck, into his hair as you slowly push back and forth into him. He’s so responsive, gasping, tipping his head back when you hold yourself as deep as you can go. Squeezing his legs around your hips a little faster to encourage you to pick up. It’s not much quicker, just a little, steady and determined as you mouth sloppy kisses up his neck. Whisper into his ear that he’s doing so well.  
He moans at that, every time you tell him how good he is. It gets to a point where he’s brave enough to push his hips back onto you, trying to impale himself on your dick while you’re already doing basically that. 

“Oh fuck,” he has one hand in your hair, one twisted in his bed sheets. “Eridan, fuck.”

You’d like to be a smart ass and confirm to him that yes, that’s what you’re doing, but the way he’s starting to sound a little desperate, like he needs your cock in him, like he doesn’t want you to ever stop. You don’t snark, you just kiss him, roll your hips against his ass harder, fuck him with all you’ve got as he moans, half shout and half utter pleasure.  
You’re close but he’s closer, and that’s exactly how you want it. You take his dick in your hand, jerk him off while you piston into him and he nearly screams, back bending, eyes shut tight as he outright begs you.

“Eridan, _please_ , fuck, I’m so close, I’m right fucking there!”

You stay close to him, tucked up tight as you keep pushing your cock inside him, drawing halfway back out and then going for it again. You whisper to him again, right into his ear, that he’s so good, feels so good. That he’s so good for you.

Karkat doesn’t moan when he comes, he just tips his head back, mouth open in a silent gasp, goes tight around you, jizz dripping down over your hand. He doesn’t stop rocking onto you though, so you fuck him through his orgasm, slowing so as to not hurt him, to make it gentle, coaxing every drop out of him. And that’s what gets you too.  
Your sharp gasp, followed by a whimper as you finish, seems loud now that he’s not moaning your name. 

The two of you take ages to catch your breath. You still have your hands all over each other, touching and holding and petting- it’s wonderful and calming and keeps you from completely losing your shit because _you just fucked your best friend_.

You ease out, toss the condom at his deskside garbage, and collapse on top of him. He laughs, still breathless and now sleepy, but doesn’t move you for a long time. Instead he plays with your hair, fluffing it back and forth, keeping your floppy bangs out of your eyes as you lay there smiling at him.  
You exchange lazy kisses once you’re laying next to him, but you don’t dare say a word. The two of you are too busy smiling anyway, lounging in post orgasm haze and the comfort of being held, trading gentle kisses for what feels like hours.

You stay in his bed with him that night, wrapped in each other and dreading the reality of morning. 

When it comes, the two of you go back to normal. No hand holding, no sweet kisses, no nothing.

And it nearly fucking breaks you because you want him. You want to keep him all to yourself and you fucking can’t. You’re leaving in a week and as much as you want to have him be only yours, that’s not fair.  
It wouldn’t be what you want, and it wouldn’t be fair to him. Not to sappy, romantic Karkat who should have someone there to wake up with him every morning, help him de-stress, spoil him… you can’t do that if you’re on the other side of the world for the next two years.

He deserves better than waiting and hoping you’ll still love him in two years time. He deserves better than you and that fucking hurts so bad but you know it’s true. You’ve never been good at putting other people’s feelings first, but you need to. You need to for Karkat because he’s special and important and means the world to you. You’d never want to hurt him by leaving him behind with the promise of more that you probably couldn’t keep.

Even _you’re_ not that self-centred. You’re capable of being a nice guy, for Karkat.  
And nice guys always finish last.

**Author's Note:**

> Series name will maybe change when the final fic for this series goes up.


End file.
